


Gotta Hand it to Ya

by theskywasblue



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Comedy, Masturbation, Other, office politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tseng is a jerkoff, and Reno does just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Hand it to Ya

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seshats_prodigy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=seshats_prodigy).



> For the prompt: Reno - Self-love

Contrary to popular opinion – and to the psych evaluation in his personnel jacket – there were some things Reno wouldn’t do. Just because he had grown up under the plate – a thug, a slut, and nearly everything in between depending on what he needed to survive – didn’t mean that he didn’t have any morals. He just didn’t have a lot of shame. Shame didn’t get you far under the plate; you were better off being fearless and just a little bit crazy, which Reno had in spades.

If you wanted to live any length of time under the plate you had to know what you wanted – and getting off the longest, shittiest recon mission he’d run in a dog’s age, Reno wanted to be anywhere but standing in Tseng’s office, waiting for a dressing-down.

Reno hated recon missions. You never got to blow anything up on a recon mission, and when you did, people tended to get pissed off. This one had left him with plaster dust in his hair, grit under his fingernails, and some kind of stain he didn’t particularly want to identify on the front of his shirt. He really just wanted to take a load off for a few minutes, but there was only one chair in Tseng’s office, and that was behind the desk. As far as Reno knew, Tseng had set the place up to be deliberately uncomfortable, and that pissed him right off. Reno had very little patience for bureaucratic bullshit to begin with, and even less when his feet hurt.

When he had waited close to forty minutes – or maybe it was only half that, but being tired made it seem longer – he decided, fuck it, he was getting off his fucking feet. This was quickly followed by the decision that Tseng – the fucker – had the most comfortable chair in the entire goddamn Shinra building. Reno sank into the butter-soft black leather, put his muddy boots up on Tseng’s cherry-wood desk and took a long look around.

Tseng’s office was pretty plain, as far as offices went, but it did have an impressive view of Midgar’s early-morning sky in all its smoggy industrial glory. Reno’s “office” was a cubicle somewhere in the back of the Turks’ briefing room, plastered with centerfolds from Midgar Beauties Monthly, but the truth was, he didn’t want anything more prestigious. He was happier being a guy who took orders than a guy who gave them. Sure, he could watch his own back - and Rude’s if he had to - but being the boss was too much of pain in the ass. Everyone was always expecting shit from you, and Reno didn’t do good with expectation.

Still, there were obvious perks to being on top – soft chairs, shiny desks with little name plates on them, offices with windows...the luxury of being able to keep everyone waiting like you were the center of the fucking universe.

Sitting there, with his feet up on the desk and his hand resting lightly on his thigh, Reno decided that if Tseng was going to be a jerkoff, then so was he. It was as good a way to pass the time as any, and dammit he was tired, sore and pissed off. The least he deserved was a good petting session.

With a long sigh, Reno flicked the button on his pants, drew down the zipper, and slid his cock out. There was some rule in the Turks handbook about going commando – the popular legend said that some unlucky trainee had fallen out in front of the former president – but Reno could care less. No one was going to ask him to drop his pants for an inspection, and if they did, he would happily show off the goods.

Reno took a slow breath and cupped his balls, rubbing the base of his cock in little circles with his thumb for a moment, savouring the tiny electroshocks of pleasure that was less real than anticipatory before that first good, firm stroke. He let his head settle back against the chair and used his other hand to push his shirt up, leaving his stomach bare as he traced over his abs and worked his way up to pinch one nipple.

“Mmm...yeah.” His voice echoed in the empty office; damn, the place had great acoustics – perfect for a solid, over the desk fucking; and Reno smirked to himself, imagining Tseng pushed against the desktop with his pants around his ankles. That’d put him in his place alright.

Reno worked his thumb against the slick, sensitive head of his cock, toying with the sensitive ring of skin around it until he shuddered, feeling his balls start to throb; then he increased his pace, tightening his grip around his cock, the nails of his other hand teasing the hardened points of his nipples, wishing he had actually pulled his pants down so that he could get a little fingering action going. Instead, he tugged at the loose bit of skin where his shaft met his balls, knocking the name plate off Tseng’s desk and onto the floor as his legs spread automatically wider, hips twitching as come splattered his stomach.

Stretched out with his eyes closed, Reno tenderly stroked his twitching cock until the sensation bordered right on pain, then played his fingers through the mess on his stomach, grinning smugly. Yeah, he felt a shitload better about life now.

“Reno – what the _fuck_ are you doing on my desk?”

-End-


End file.
